


Boy from the Stars

by MsSirEy



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Ftm!Kara, Gen, His name is Zed-El, Slice of Life, the struggle of gender, this story is all about zed's relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10297562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSirEy/pseuds/MsSirEy
Summary: This is a look into the life of Zed-El, who once went by the name Kara Zor-El.Ftm!kara. Each chapter will center around his relationship with one character. Some chapters will be flufftastic. Others will be angsty.





	1. Zed-El and Kara Zor-El

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new story! I hope everyone I see excited to meet Zed-El. 
> 
> This first chapter is mostly about establishing a foundation for Zed's character. I hope you all enjoy!

Earth.

  
It took a long time to accept Earth as a home. In part, it was because to call it home was to accept that it was all there was. In part, it was because Earth was not entirely welcoming.

  
Zed-El was thirteen when he left his family, his home, and everything he had ever known. He never got to finish the model engine he had been building for school. He never got to say goodbye to Ek-Lor, his best friend. He never got to tell his mother the words he rehearsed at night.

  
“Khahp nahn khahp.” I am me.

  
He cried himself to sleep many nights, after waking on Earth, repeating those words to no one. They did not mean anything to Kal-El, his baby cousin who had suddenly become an adult, and Earth did not talk about gender the same way as on Krypton. While Krypton was patriarchal, it was not frowned upon in the same way to identify outside of what was assumed at birth. The reason Zed-El had hesitated to tell his parents was the feeling that he was inconveniencing their busy schedules with the process of system data changes. He wished he had cared less about that. He dreamed of Alura and Zor-El calling him unah. Son.

  
On Earth he was already so different. He did not know how to explain his feelings and felt so pressured to fit in. He told Kal-El that his name was Kara Zor-El. It was the name he had been given on Krypton and he had no issue with the name.

  
Kal-El had adopted a human name, Clark, and had assimilated fully into human culture. Zed-El did not do as well; he was too connected to Krypton. He was forced to learn a new language, one that felt so restricted.

  
He had to adjust to powers that Clark was raised with. He had to relearn how to touch and hold things, because there was this new fear that he would break everything. He had to learn how to block out the world, while every sound bombarded him, striking down any progress he made. He had to learn how to deal with anger, and he suddenly had a lot of it.

  
He would tell the Danvers, his new Earth family, he was going for a walk and when out of sight, fly up above the clouds, where the sounds of the world could not reach him. The air was thin and he could never stay for long, but he cherished every second where all he could hear was the thunderous beat of his own heart.

  
He would stare into the vast expanse of space and try to guess whether any of the stars he saw were ones he had visited. He did not recognize the patterns of the stars, could not fit them to the sky he had known. Somehow, the constellations of Earth seemed sloppy and overcrowded, but he knew it was just because he missed the view from his home. Knowing did not help.

  
Each time he descended, he could get closer to the cacophony before he felt like his head might split open. It became a ritual exercise of pushing his limit. When he was feeling up to it, he would make several attempts in one flight, at varying speeds of descent.

  
By the time he could concentrate on anything other than the constant barrage on his skull, on finding the English words to explain that he was not female, he had already developed secondary sexual characteristics that pigeonholed him into a box. On Earth, things like facial hair, deepness of voice, structure of chest or hips - they were sure indications of a person’s gender. On Krypton, he never would have hated his body, never would have felt betrayed by it, but on Earth he learned to.

  
Even his name was seen as feminine. It was not because he had taken his father’s name, but instead because of the perceived nature of Kara. On Krypton, he could have been Kara-El and that would have been enough.

  
To Earth, he was Kara Danvers, adoptive daughter and sister. He had already been introduced to the world as such - gone to school, met the extended Danvers family, visited Clark in Metropolis. And even with all his power, it was the name Kara that made him feel most alien.

  
Kara, the name his parents gave him, the only thing he got to bring with him from Krypton that could exist within human culture, made him cringe. To hear it became a reminder of how people saw him. It was pervasive, existing in every area of life on Earth.

  
It made it hard to get close to people. He was forced to learn their language and customs, but they could not seem to be bothered to notice the way he grimaced at the sound of his own name.

  
In high school, he began thinking about other people, about getting to know them. He watched other people together, as friends or partners. It ate at him, the desire to participate.

  
There was Hallie, whose laugh was musical and who always smiled brightly. Hallie was Zed-El’s first crush. He sat across from her in shop class, the only two ‘girls’ in the class. He enjoyed their conversations, which seemed unbound by expectation. They partnered for all of their assignments and he had felt a connection.

  
It took the entire semester to muster the courage to ask Hallie out. “Thank you,” she had said, “but I am not into women.” It was a punch to the gut. He had nodded. Smiled. Pretended nothing had transpired. In the newly strained silence, he found himself dwelling on the thoughts that always started with ‘if only’.

  
Colin had a deep voice that he felt in his chest more than his head. He was contemplative and he liked books and he had a charmingly quirky smile when he got lost in his thoughts. He and Zed got along very well and unlike Hallie, he was interested.

  
They went to prom together, a darling couple. They mostly ignored the other attendees and when they got the chance, they snuck off. Colin asked if they could kiss and Zed-El giddily accepted. There was so much excitement. Too much. Colin was turned off by Zed-El’s sudden display of strength, as Zed-El pushed him against a wall. Colin admitted he would need to get used to it, but Zed-El could see how it shifted their relationship.

  
The dynamic expected in human relationships was so foreign to Zed-El. The need for a man, the strong shotcaller, and a woman, the passive decoration. And for Zed-El to be himself was to undermine that dynamic.

  
Much like his adjustment to heightened senses, he became numb to the issue. He descended in on himself, isolated and misunderstood. People mistook his distance for him being asocial.

  
In his freshman year of college, he struggled living in a room with someone. He spent as much time away from the dorm as possible. It was hard to ignore his roommate, but what was worse was looking in the mirror and not recognizing who stared back. He saw more of Eliza Danvers in himself than either of his biological parents.

  
All he shared with Eliza were physical traits - long blonde hair, slim figure, shorter stature - but that was more than he shared with Alura or Zor-El. What he had not seemed to inherit from any of his parents, biological or not, was self-assurance. He saw it in the dull eyes that he could not hold contact with. He spent so much time trying to be sure the people around him were comfortable with the way he expressed himself, to avoid conflict. It was so human.

  
Sophomore year he had a room to himself; it was so freeing, to be able to dress and act differently, because it was solely his space. He did not have to wear clothes designed to ‘flatter his feminine figure’. He wanted to personally thank whoever invented sports bras.

  
He watched Earth’s growth in language and dialogue regarding gender. Sonia lived next door and they were a wealth of knowledge regarding gender and sexual orientation. They talked in terms that seemed more natural to Krypton. They also were comfortable physically, kissing and cuddling, mostly, and it gave him the opportunity to grow accustomed to contact that got his heart racing.

  
“Can I kiss you?” They had asked him the first time, explaining, “I really like kissing friends.” Zed-El had nodded, unperturbed by the notion, and allowed Sonia to take the lead. He kept his hands tightly at his sides and when Sonia pulled away, they cocked their head to the side with an arched brow. “Quite the passive kisser,” was the comment. “Is it not your thing? I won't be offended.”

  
Zed-El had blushed and looked away. “I get,” he struggled to supply the right words, “overly enthusiastic,” he finally settled upon, “when I am more active.”

  
Sonia had chuckled. “Show me.”

  
It became normal to kiss Sonia. They did not seem to care that they often walked away with bruises or a bloody lip. Zed-El had been horrified the first time and apologized profusely. Sonia had dismissed his worry and assured him that it was a welcome spice in an otherwise mild life.

  
Zed-El was determined to perfect restraint. He got better at knowing where the lines were - what was rough versus what was forceful - and never allowed himself to stray. And things remained friendly. Sonia kissed many people, and that suited him. He was not looking to be romantic until he felt whole by himself.

  
Zed-El never talked about himself, never wanting to be put in the position of explaining how he discovered his identity; he was not a great liar and he was not prepared to talk about Krypton. Just knowing Sonia’s opinion on gender was enough.

  
It was encouraging, even if not directly. It brought into focus the idea of pursuing changes. He wanted to move forward, to become more himself. He wanted his body to match his mind and for people he loved to be aware of his truth. He wanted to talk to Eliza and Alex. And, looking at his calendar, he was just in time for Thanksgiving at the Danvers’ house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Look forward to chapter 2: Zed-El and Alex Danvers!


	2. Zed-El and Alex Danvers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> Saddle up, friends! This chapter is all about Zed and Alex. This is a heavy-ish chapter, but not too bad. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The Danvers, his new family. It hurt to think the words, to call them family. They were all he had; they took him in when Kal-El would not. He recognized what it took to open their home; for that, they had his respect and gratitude. 

He bonded with Jeremiah, who was a very open and understanding sort. The man had a patience that Zed-El was in desperate need of. Sorting his own thoughts and emotions, in the wake of losing his entire planet, made the idea of juggling concern for others all the more daunting. Jeremiah was very good about letting Zed-El come to him, rather than pushing his help on the young Kryptonian. 

It stung when Jeremiah left with the government organization, like he had lost his greatest ally, and he cried when he heard of Jeremiah’s death. Loss and death were nothing new to him, but Jeremiah’s funeral felt like he was burying his world. That was the day he said his farewell to Krypton aloud, his hand against Jeremiah’s headstone. 

Eliza was warm, but overly sweet. He did appreciate her efforts and tried his best to reciprocate, but he found her affection to be overbearing, at times. Especially in the first year. While he knew she was genuinely kind hearted, there was a falseness he could not ignore. He wondered if it was a product of his own nature, the knowledge that if he were in her position, he would do the same thing. It felt like an obligation.

Over the years, he learned that she just did not connect as easily with people as Jeremiah. She saw the world through a rational lense and struggled to relate. Her doting and blatant tendency toward ignoring Zed-El’s misdoings were her attempts at filling Jeremiah’s shoes. She had seen what her husband had meant to Zed-El. It made him want to minimize the amount she had to turn her eye. 

And then there was Alex Danvers. 

He had been wary of her at first. She was the most emotionally impacted by his arrival. He was invading her home and she was initially unreceptive. Even as Eliza pressed Alex to be friendly, she was distant, her eyes narrow and her tone begrudging. She was short with her words, to cut deep at the fact that he was learning a new language and to minimize the time spent interacting. There was often pointed silence, especially while she moved her things from the room that had been deemed Zed-El’s. 

Zed-El would move his writing practice into his room if she wanted to watch tv. He would let her take the extra slice of pizza, even as his stomach clawed with hunger. He avoided her eye, ducking his head if they shared space. He hated the thought that he could have any hand in her rejection of him. To her, he was not a Danvers.

One of the first English phrases Zed-El learned was ‘don't touch.’ It was cemented in his mind as Eliza protectively withdrew Alex from Zed-El’s reach, the first day. He saw the unmasked fear, even as Eliza tried to assure him with words he did not comprehend.

Do not touch. It was established as a rule. He could not initiate contact with a human. Rules were not a foreign concept, but rules developed out of fear cut deep. It was not a rule that everyone followed. It was exclusive to him. It was meant to keep his power in check, to mitigate the damage he would do. 

Jeremiah tried to frame it differently. He gave Zed-El a set of goals, including writing with a pencil and catching an egg. He was told that if he could accomplish that without any destruction, things would change. And so Zed-El practiced, but each day he felt like he was making no progress. The fact that he had no contact, beyond the occasional hand on his shoulder, made it all the more difficult. 

He would hear Alex argue with her mother and through the walls he could see her point toward his room. She yelled about her wanting to have friends over. ‘Friends’, a world he quickly learned to recognize. He understood her desire. Friends were peers, people who understood each other, who shared similar experiences. He had none of those.

He learned that he had arrived during the Earth summer, when adolescent humans did not attend school and did not regularly see their friends. His presence meant none of Alex’s friends could come over the house. And it was clear that she resented him for that.

Zed-El would feel Alex’s eyes on him as he sat on the couch, pencil in hand, attempting to write. It was the exercise he spent the most time on. It had a dual purpose; he had to learn to write in English and complete his goal. No one expected him to get it on the first day, but weeks of consistent failure took its toll. And when Jeremiah left, he found little encouragement beyond Eliza’s half hearted smiles. 

After Jeremiah’s funeral, each night seemed darker, loneliness threatening to swallow him up. He learned the word ‘need’, sought it out specifically, but it always got caught in his throat, never to be voiced. He could not bring himself to ask more of Eliza. Zed-El learned, though, that Alex was keen in her observation and innately empathetic. 

Alex changed after Jeremiah’s death. She grew up quickly and Zed-El saw how the loss impacted her. He had lived the same experience. He knew what it meant to lose a father.

One night, after his frustration—culminated by a long streak of failures—had resulted in him stomping and subsequently knocking a mirror and several pictures from the walls, Zed-El sobbed into his pillow as he attempted to block out the sound of Eliza sweeping up broken glass. While the shards could never break his skin, the sound tore through him, punishing him for his outburst. 

Zed-El had yet to learn to filter sounds or determine trajectory, so he was surprised when he heard a soft voice. “Kara?”

He furiously wiped at his eyes, trying to rid them of the tears that burned with a need to fall. He stumbled to his door, cracking it open. “What's up?” He liked the question for its nearly catch-all nature - greet, as well as establish nature and intent of an interaction. 

“Can I come in?” Alex nodded toward the room, helping Zed-El recall the meaning. He nodded and stood aside, allowing her entry. She made a point of shutting the door. 

When Alex faced him, Zed-El saw those watchful eyes take in his every feature and slowly put him together like a puzzle. Her jaw tensed at the sight of his reddened eyes and Zed-El could not tell what the silence held. 

“Do you want a hug?” The words were whispered, conscious of their impact. Zed-El recognized most of the words, but ‘hug’ was not among his vocabulary. Then arms spread wide, in invitation. And he understood. 

There was only the briefest moment where he considered the fact that it would break the rules before he was nodding. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, encasing him in warmth. 

His legs shook and threatened to buckle under the weight of his sorrow, his super strength rendered useless. The only thing that kept him standing was the fear that the slightest movement would result in Alex letting go. 

He wept. It was the first time he let anyone be present for it, to witness what he viewed as his weakness, for which he felt great shame. With his forehead resting against Alex's shoulder, he let the floodgates open. She cooed soft words that he could not spare the energy to comprehend. 

In the midst of it all, his hands found their way to Alex's back, gripping her shirt like he might have his mother’s. She did not retreat, just rubbed his back. He lost track of time. 

When finally he needed to sit, he was surprised Alex had held him for so long. It was the first hint of her stubborn nature, her unwavering loyalty, and penchant for self sacrifice. It was the moment Alex became his sister. Her eyes had taken on a soft quality, strengthened by the light of determination. “It will be okay,” she said to him. It was a promise. 

Alex made a habit of breaking her parents’ rule. She would hold Zed-El’s spare hand as he tried to write and hug him when he succeeded. It tipped the scale of success and failure. He was able to learn faster, his confidence rising, fueling his progress. 

Eliza pushed Alex to watch out for and protect Zed-El, but Alex went far beyond. While the adults sympathized and tried to shelter him, Alex understood him. 

~oOoOo~

Zed-El floated high above the Danvers household, staring up at the more familiar starscape. Living on campus afforded little opportunity to sit on a rooftop and look up; he missed the view. 

He heard the familiar squeal of Alex's dying car and looked down. She was just pulling into the driveway and Zed-El dropped at super speed to the ground next to the car. Alex kicked her door open and got out, grinning. 

“How is that hunk of junk not dead yet,” Zed-El laughed the question. 

“She's as stubborn as I am,” Alex returned. “I see you aren't as rusty at flying as I thought you might be!”

“Alexandra Danvers,” came the stern voice from the front door to the house. “Why didn't you pick your sister up from school?” Eliza asked. Alex's smile fell away. 

“She didn’t need to pick me up,” Zed-El protested, but Eliza shook her head as both of her children moved toward the house. 

“You should not be flying,” Eliza insisted, “and she should not encourage you to.”

Zed-El hugged Eliza at the door and ducked into the house. “Nice to see you, too,” he heard Alex quip behind him. 

Alex and Eliza did not see eye to eye, and Zed-El could not help feeling that was, in part, his fault. He had hoped that the children moving out of the house for college would have helped, but the tension remained. 

“Kara, the turkey is in the oven still,” Eliza indicated, and Zed-El could smell it and the rest of the meal from the entryway, “why don't you start moving things to the dining room?”

Zed-El hastened to do as suggested, to expedite the preparation, but also to distance himself from the mother-daughter face off. All of the dishes were on the table by the time he heard, “really? Already going for the wine?”

“Gotta enjoy myself somehow,” Alex returned as Zed-El joined them in the kitchen. He moved in for a hug, which Alex happily granted. His body was between the two, but it did nothing to divert the hostility. 

“Let’s eat,” he suggested, as he backed away from Alex, tugging her hand toward the dining room. 

“Ever hungry,” she grinned. It was jarring to watch Alex and Eliza's expressions change, when they shifted from talking to Zed-El to talking to each other, and back. 

They all sat down at the table, passing dishes around until everyone had a full plate. “So,” Eliza began, “Kara, how’re things with you?”

Zed-El froze mid scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate. While it was not meant to be a loaded question, he was always stuck feeling like he could not be honest. No matter what was truly going on, he was hesitant to give any sign that he was struggling. Eliza had given so much, to take him in, and having lost Jeremiah made her a single mother of two. 

However, he found that the way he swallowed his troubles led to Alex thinking he was the perfect child in Eliza's eyes. He knew it wasn't true, but it was reinforced by the way Eliza never punished and hardly scolded him while she was so tough on Alex. 

He learned to never directly answer the question. “The suite I am living in is interesting.”

“Oh yeah?” Eliza smiled as he set the potatoes aside, taking a smaller than usual portion. “Have you made any new friends?”

Zed-El nodded, being sure to punctuate it with a signature glowing smile, so practiced throughout his youth. “I live next to Sonia, who is a senior. They’re really awesome,” he declared. 

“They?” Eliza’s brow bunched and Zed-El watched her closely, aware of what she was caught up on. “You only mentioned Sonia.”

“Right,” he trailed. “Sonia is, um, you know-” Eliza shook her head, confused. Zed-El glanced at Alex, who had a passive look as she stared at Eliza. “Sonia is not a boy or a girl. They use different pronouns.”

“So, they have both sets of reproductive organs?” It was not uncharacteristic of Eliza and Zed-El had anticipated a variation of her response.

“Mom-” Alex groaned. 

“It’s not about what parts they have,” Zed-El tried to explain. “It’s about not identifying with either binary gender.” Despite his preparation, his face felt hot and he struggled to maintain eye contact. 

“So, then, why are they plural?” 

Zed-El had to put his hands in his lap to hide the way they shook. “Well, the pronouns are most typically used in the plural sense, but they work in a singular gender neutral sense, which is how Sonia uses them.” 

He swallowed, eying the way Eliza cut her meat, her expression mildly fascinated, like they were discussing research in a field she had no direct connection to. “In my linguistics course, we talked about word formation and the driving force of necessity,” he continued. “Not enough people need new pronouns, for themselves or others, so there is not enough catch.”

Eliza hummed to show her interest. “It is nice to see you connecting lessons to real life,” she praised. Her attention turned. “How are things going for you, Alex?” 

Zed-El closed his eyes, drawing a slow breath. On the one hand, he was glad to no longer feel the pressure of positively representing gender nonconformity, as if pitching the concept to a producer, but Sonia had been his one easy in with the topic. His throat and chest felt tight, and he had trouble reinvesting in conversation. 

“Things are fine,” Alex stated, tersely. 

“I’ve heard that your grades are slipping,” Eliza pressed, primly drinking her own wine, as if she were not stirring the pot. “And that if you make it to class, you are hungover.” 

“I’m surprised you know anything about my life,” Alex sniped, taking the bait she only ever seemed oblivious to with Eliza. “And for your information, I got an offer. To work in a lab.”

Her response to the jab was much more positive than he had expected. “That’s awesome,” Zed-El beamed, letting himself ignore his own news. 

Eliza looked surprised, but then smiled. “That’s great, Honey,” she agreed. “What program are you going into?”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “It is not to get into a PhD program,” she informed them. “It is a part of a government division.”

“Alex, no,” Eliza chided. “You should be getting a PhD and putting your mind to research. Your own research. It’s a waste otherwise.”

“Why is it that when my choices don't align with yours, it’s a waste?” Zed-El could sense the fight brewing, each beginning to pick at wording and choice statements. 

“You have so much potential,” Eliza insisted, the heat in her own tone rising. 

“I am also a person, with desires and goals,” Alex shot. 

“Is that why you are about to fail in your last year of undergrad?”

Zed-El cringed. He knew that was the final straw. “Hey, I think-”

“Yeah, I had to fuck up on my own terms, for once,” Alex snapped. Zed-El shrank back as their voices got louder. 

He began to recite Kryptonian lullaby in his head, his lips moving minutely with the words. It helped him to block out the explosive argument. Their voices fell abruptly and angry eating followed. 

He pushed his food around his plate, feeling his appetite lacking, but when he noted that the others had almost cleared their plates, he began to shovel the food back. It was impossible to enjoy dinner with the sour taste in his mouth. 

“Thanks for this really awesome meal,” he broke the silence. “Would you like me to take care of the dishes?”

Eliza shook her head. “That's alright, I can handle them. You should relax - your finals are just around the corner.”

Zed-El was about to protest, but Alex was on her feet. “Thanks.” After giving Eliza a sad smile, Zed-El followed after Alex. 

Alex went straight to her room and the door was shut before Zed-El had the chance to ask if she wanted company. He stood outside his own door for a moment, entirely unsure of himself. Finally, he entered his room, and with the door shut, laid down on his bed. 

He wanted to join Eliza in the kitchen, but he knew she was doing the dishes alone in an attempt to drown out the sound of her sobbing. He dragged his hands over his face, honing in on the sound of Alex pacing. He noted that she wasn't swearing as much as she sometimes did, and decided that was a good sign. 

The meal left him feeling defeated. He closed his eyes, ready to force himself to sleep with the hopes of a better tomorrow. 

A soft knock on his door startled him into a sitting position. He listened for a heart and recognized Alex's. “Come in,” he chirped, trying to keep his voice light. 

“Hey,” Alex cooed, stepping into the room. He noted the poorly wiped away tear tracks on her cheeks and his heart squeezed for her. Alex was often a stoic crier, so he would not bring attention to it. “Shit, I was hoping your room would make it harder to hear her crying,” Alex sighed. 

“Are you alright?” 

Alex shrugged. “It always blows over. Just have to get the big fight out of the way early,” she declared in a sullen whisper. “But,” she said, her voice taking on a lighter tone, “I am here to check in on you.”

“I’m fine,” Zed-El assured. 

“Bullshit,” Alex chuckled. “You were singing at dinner. You only sing if something is bothering you. And us,” she pointed to herself and then the door, “fighting, is nothing new.”

“How did you even-”

Alex rolled her eyes. “So, does it have to do with school? Sonia?”

Zed-El blanched. “I- there is nothing.”

“Kara,” Alex soothed. “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” she proclaimed. Zed-El could feel the words in his throat. He wanted so badly to say them, had waited so long, but doubt lingered. “You will always be my sister.”

“I don't want to be your sister!”

“Wait, what?”

Zed-El thought he might vomit. “No, that- it is not-”

There was confusion written all over Alex's face. “Kara, I don't-”

Zed-El put his hand up. “Stop. Let me start over.” Alex nodded, her trepidation clear. “I don't want to be your sister because I want to be your,” he swallowed, trying to keep the panic from overwhelming him, “brother.”

With bated breath, he watched the tension fall away. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “That is so- I am so relieved to hear that.” She drew in a deep breath, hand on her chest. “Holy shit, I thought you were going to tell me you wanted our relationship to be romantic or something.”

Zed-El chuckled, still unsure. “No. I mean, you are beautiful, in all sorts of ways, but you are my sister,” he indicated. 

“Well, so, that's cool.” 

Zed-El arched his brow. “Yeah?” He could not feel his fingers or teeth, adrenaline running freely through him. 

“Sure,” Alex chuckled. “I mean, I don't really know what that means for us,” she motioned between them. 

“Not much, really,” Zed-El supplied. The word fell from his lips, a weight he was glad to be rid of. “You are the only person that knows-”

“Seriously?” 

“Well, it is not easy to tell,” he defended. He flopped back on his bed. 

“I suppose it wouldn't be,” she sat by him on the bed. “I am sorry you felt like you couldn't say anything.”

“It’s alright,” he sighed, still coming down from the rush of anxiety. “Earth does not have a great understanding of gender.”

Alex was silent for a moment. “Wait, so how long have you known?”

“Well before coming to Earth,” he chuckled, sadly.

“Holy shit, that long?” Zed-El nodded. “Scoot over,” Alex motioned for him to take the inside of the bed, and when he shimmied over, she laid down next to him. “So, are you still going to be Kara?”

“I am not going to become someone else,” he laughed.

Alex rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she huffed.

“Um, no, I-,” he worried his lip, “I don’t think I can keep Kara, as a name.”

Alex glanced at him. He felt her eyes looking into him, like she was the one gifted with x-ray vision. “I am sorry.” Hot tears ran down the sides of his face and Alex grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. “So, have you put any thought into what I should call you?”

His throat was tight, but he nodded. “A lot,” he managed.

“Yeah?” There was solemn acknowledgement of hours spent alone. “So, anything stand out?”

Zed-El smiled faintly. “In Kryptonese, zhehd means boy and zehdh means family,” it wasn’t a perfect translation and he cocked his head, trying to connect it to a different English word, “or, like, belonging. From.” He nodded, satisfied. “And El, the house I belong to, that Clark would have been a part of, is similar to the Kryptonese word ehl, which means sun or star.”

“So, where does that leave us,” Alex coaxed.

“I was thinking Zed-El, Boy from the Stars.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Alex’s wide grin. “That is so perfectly corny! And so very you!”

“You think?” he asked, allowing himself to look toward her.

She beamed. “Of course! I love it.”

“I was thinking I would change my legal name to Zed Danvers,” he blushed with nervous excitement. He could have never imagined a better way to tell someone and the relief of having it off his chest was making him giddy. 

“The perfect mix of Krypton and Earth.”

~ oOoOo ~

Having Alex’s support made life a lot easier. Zed-El found himself smiling with more frequency. He opened up to Sonia and eventually the rest of the people he lived with and they all began calling him Zed. The changes were slow, but each moment chipped away at the walls that imprisoned him in an existence he did not want. 

It became complicated, switching between spending time with Sonia and his other suitemates and going to class. Eliza still knew him as Kara. Alex had promised to do some investigating to see if she could get a sense of how Eliza would respond to Zed-El coming out. In the meantime, Alex was sure to refer to Zed-El as Kara when around her.

“I am so afraid I am going to say the wrong thing,” Alex said over winter break. “For so long, I was afraid I would call you Kara,” she babbled, “and now that I am used to Zed, we are home and ‘hey Mom, I am going out with z-Kara’,” she chuckled, but Zed-El caught her cautious glance, noting how unsure she was about joking about her struggle. 

“You are doing great,” he assured, “and, I do plan on telling her,” he rocked his head back and forth with a shrug, “you know, soon… ish.”

“You do not have to rush it,” Alex offered.

“I got the first inklings when I was like four; there is no rush here,” Zed-El joked.

Alex nudged him softly. “I am here for you, for whatever pace you choose.”

And she was. In his junior year, after both Alex and Sonia had graduated, she would come visit his campus. She cut his hair short the first time, but they agreed that he should get it professionally done after needing to buzz it all down to make it even. She joined him in the men’s section of a few clothing stores, helping him pick out some tshirts and sweatshirts that suited him.

She held his hand when he told Eliza, the following Thanksgiving dinner, after she asked why he had cut his hair. Eliza was receptive enough, but did not pick the name or pronouns up quickly. Alex would correct her, to take some of the burden off of Zed-El.

Alex had started working at her new job, which had her traveling and working long hours at times, but she still managed to help Zed-El assemble the paperwork for his name change. As a present for the eighth anniversary of him arriving on Earth, Alex and Eliza covered the cost of all the forms - birth certificate, license, SSN, and passport. They celebrated his Name Day together. 

Over the last year of school, he spent most of his limited spare time putting together a set of exercises that allowed him to put on a bit of additional muscle mass, which helped to naturally flatten his chest and widen his shoulders. He had no option for hormone therapy, but the muscle was a comfortable step in the right direction, for him.

His name changed in the school directory and he walked across the stage on graduation day, announced as Zed Danvers. It was the first sign of the world outside of his family and friends recognizing him for who he was. He had to put conscious effort into making sure his feet stayed connected to the ground as he received his diploma. 

Alex asked Eliza to get a photo of her with Zed-El. She boasted that she would put the photo on her desk at work, so everyone could see that her little brother had graduated. 

Alex suggested he move to National City, like she had, and helped him find an apartment. He was glad she would be closeby once more. And then she helped him prepare for job interviews. One of those was for a position at CatCo Worldwide Media.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> A fun surprise for those that read my rambling commentary: I have a reference image for Zed! Credit for the art goes to lesly-oh, who can be found on Tumblr.   
> https://mssirey.tumblr.com/post/159350682251/this-is-zed-el-his-earth-name-is-zed-danvers-he
> 
> Feel free to check it out and you all are also free to follow me on Tumblr (same name as on AO3). I am not particularly active, but you are free to hit up my asks or whatever (I am new to Tumblr, so I don't have all the jargon down). 
> 
> Look forward to Chapter 3: Zed-El and Winn Schott!


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